


feeling's running straight to my bones

by archetypically



Category: Rogue One: A Star Wars Story (2016)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-22
Updated: 2017-10-22
Packaged: 2019-01-21 03:13:57
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 632
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12448503
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/archetypically/pseuds/archetypically
Summary: It takes Jyn approximately 10.5 seconds to decide that she hates Hoth.Or: yet another Hoth fic.





	feeling's running straight to my bones

**Author's Note:**

> written for [rebelcaptain prompts](https://rebelcaptainprompts.tumblr.com/) prompt #8 - fingers, agony, shiver

It takes Jyn approximately 10.5 seconds to decide that she hates Hoth.

(Not that she’s counting. K2 is there to do it for her, and to hold the statistic in his memory banks to announce whenever he pleases, just to irritate her further.)

10.5 seconds is about the time it takes for the cold to slice through her (now clearly paltry) layers like a knife, for the tips of her exposed fingers to go numb, for her nose to turn bright red and her eyes to start watering. She’s been to some cold planets over the years, hellholes she’d sworn to never go within a parsec of ever again, but even the worst of them hadn’t hit her this harshly or immediately. An Imperial prison cell, she thinks, is paradise compared to this.

Cassian, who has just stepped into the hangar bay, on the other hand, looks much farther from suffering in silent agony than anyone has a right to at this moment. In fact, as he surveys the others unloading cargo, he almost looks _comfortable_. There’s no sign of even a single goosebump, from what she can see.

It’s disgusting.

She grits her teeth, and the action serves a dual purpose: an attempt to not show any weakness like chattering, as well as an outlet for her frustration. A time passes before she offers a derisive, “You look warm.”

“I have a coat,” says Cassian, reasonably, because the statement is reasonable.

Jyn just scowls.

“You should, too,” he adds a moment later.

She scowls even harder.

Cassian has that look in his eyes that he gets during strategy meetings as he turns his attention toward her, the one that indicates he’s considering at least five different variables. She doesn’t have time to wonder what they might be before he turns on his heel and disappears back into the U-wing, emerging a few minutes later with one of his bulky, fur-trimmed parkas tucked under his arm.

“Here.” He hands it to her. “Take this.”

She turns it over in her hands, examining. Frowning. “It looks ridiculous.”

He closes his eyes briefly, lets out a breath. “It’ll do the job. That’s what’s important.”

“I’m not putting that on.”

He doesn’t respond, but Jyn knows him well enough by now to know that he doesn’t give up his ground that easily. Sure enough, he takes the coat from her hands and drapes it over her shoulders. Her throat goes tight at the proximity. If it affects him too, he appears not to show it, but as he starts to zip up the front, she swears she can see him visibly swallow.

It feels like an eternity has passed before he takes a step back, evaluates his work. “There. Better?”

_No_ , she wants to retort, purely on principle; she _knows_ she looks as ridiculous as she feels, standing here in this bulk of fabric that’s about to bury her. But she can’t bring herself to, because the shiver that’d wracked her whole body just minutes ago is now a distant memory, and with her hands tucked into the pockets, she’s actually starting to get some feeling back in her fingers. So, instead, she watches him silently, detects the smallest hint of a smile starting to curl at one of the corners of his mouth.

Smug bastard.

Cassian leaves her then, goes to rescue Bodhi from whatever brand of harassment K2 now has in mind. As she waits for her hands to warm enough to be any kind of useful, she realizes it feels like him. Feels like a pair of arms around her at sunset, with all the security of home.

There’s a warmth in her chest that she knows has nothing to do with any added layer of protection against the cold.


End file.
